


It's cold without the sun

by Coldfeetonthekitchenfloor



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, OUAT - Freeform, Oneshot, Poetry, Sailing, Ship, fairytale, pirate, poem, sun - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:37:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coldfeetonthekitchenfloor/pseuds/Coldfeetonthekitchenfloor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lightning flashed a question "Where are you running to?" And soon followed the thunder who added loudly "No not where who?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's cold without the sun

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this is my first ever Captain Swan oneshot and it took me ages! I'm obsessed with these two so this just kind of happened. I wasn't planning in it rhyming it just stared and I couldn't stop lol. Anyway if you like it please give some love xx

The waves were relentlessly furious, sharp enough to cut through anything, cold enough to burn out the stars. Despite the sea's deep fury, the ship pushed through it steady, as if unsinkable. The chasing water was baiting, death seeming inescapable. The sea held life in its palm, seeming powerful enough to even control the sky.

At the wheel stood that lonely Captain, dressed all in black, soaked to the bone from rain and sea, droplets falling from his hair, face and all the way down his back. He stood with a solid grace, unmoving in contrast to the chaos around him. A stony face of unwavering seriousness, gaze dead ahead into the grey dim. His stare, hard and cold, gave the impression that it wasn't the storm behind him that you should be afraid of, it was the one set in the blue coldness of his eyes.

The waves hadn't caught him yet and he didn't suppose they ever would, not as long as he kept on running. Running, he was always running. It wasn't quite morning but the black darkness had relinquished control to a tentative day, the dawning sky breaking open to a howling wind, searching for it's prey.

The lightning flashed a question, "Where are you running to?" And soon followed the thunder who added loudly, "No, not where, who?"

His eyelashes flickered shut over stormy eyes and as if on cue, a gentle glow rose from the horizon. The lightning flashed in rage, though slightly dimmer this time, and the rain lessened its lashing, black clouds cowered in fear. The thunder rumbled in a mocking laugh, though so much quieter now, "if that's what you want you'll never reach it Pirate, it's impossible to ever get to the sun."

The glow grew brighter then; the rays of white giving way to a lighter shade of orange. The one-handed man was pulled out of the darkness, his determined body stiff. He would out run this storm, he would get to that brightness.

His face was bathed in warmth, shadows of ropes and beams painted across the deck. With another breaking wave, the grey pushed away to reveal a clear morning sky. Maybe the sea wasn't so powerful after all, it's uprising couldn't reach him now. 

Once free of shadow, the rain stopped its fall, and though the wet pirate shivered, he was numb to it all. The sea's movement was still harsh, but no longer a threat. The sun was barely peeking above the end of the world but it was there; he was almost there.  
His scowl lines deepened as the ship sailed on, searching the horizon for even a spec of land thereon. The wind picked up his rain soaked hair but he was close, so close that he didn't really care.

 

The waves calmed down to a slow, gentle rocking, and each inch of the burning sun was exposed. The blue turned to bright reds and oranges, the sun set fires across it's sky. Higher and higher it rose and he can see the land now; it's right beneath his eyes.

The thunder is wrong, he thought, as he slowed the ship near the shore. He could see the sunlight now, in rays of golden blonde.  
Anchoring the ship in place at the port, the burning heat from nearby seared his skin. Maybe luck was on his side; he could feel the world spin.

It's only then that he finally moved, removing hook and hand from the wooden wheel. Stepping sideways in cold sodden boots he walked towards the warmth so real.  
Hopping down onto solid ground, green eyes were the first thing he saw. Oh god, that face, that voice, that smile, she brings him to his knees. 

He's vaguely aware of a nickname called and a part him of didn't think he'd ever have this again but he's safe he's alive and, well, here she is. The storm in his eyes reached a peak, and he's drowning, he's drowning, he's drowning. Then there's shining silk in his hand, hook pressed against her leather clad waist and eyes that keep him grounded.

 

They didn't speak their greeting, it seemed insignificant with eyes boring into each other's with everything that needed to be said. He held her almost too tight, afraid to let her go, he'd nearly lost himself out there and he's finally, finally home. She murmured barely heard comforts as he tried to keep himself together and the relief came through in tidal waves; it's ok now they're together. 

A softness surrounded him, and her arms pulled him closer, closer, into the warm. He's aware of the damp but the coldness was forgotten with fingers knotted into the hair at the back of his neck. Hot, gentle lips touched his own, soft white skin under a calloused hand, golden tendrils of hair and bright, teary eyes reflecting sun.

 

The thunder is so wrong he thought as she whispered, "You're freezing Killian." And his voice back was gentle, her hands warming up his fragile heart. "It's cold without the sun."


End file.
